Manipulation
by SenLinYu
Summary: There is something dangerous and cunning in the shadows of a muggle city. Someone is out hunting and the prey they find isn’t likely to get away.


When the scent reached him he was strolling along an alley that lay behind a row of townhouses.

It made him stumble slightly in surprise before he stood frozen, eyes closed, trying confirm his suspicion.

It was her.

He was certain of it.

Even after the years away, the feelings she had evoked came flooding back, somehow seeming stronger now than they'd been then.

He had to see. To confirm that he was right.

He followed the enticement like a hound. Moving like a wraith, silent and quick footed. Slipping like a shadow across the city, the scent drawing him on, further and further until he reached a desolate area. The road was cracked and uneven and many of the street lamps had been out for years without being attended to.

It was silent there.

An unnatural quiet. The kind that meant the shadows were full of lurking, creeping things.

Things that were watching.

Hunting.

Things like him.

The smell was overpowering now. The air almost drenched it. It made his blood sing.

But as he surveyed the area he worried. What was she doing in a place like this? It was dangerous place, even for someone who didn't smell like ambrosia.

It was like a drug in the air, and he was sure he wouldn't be the only one drawn in. Like sharks sensing blood in the water, the scent of her would lure others in from miles away.

Then he saw her.

She was walking along the road oblivious to the death and darkness closing in around her. She almost seemed to glow. Like a beacon.

He stared. She had grown up. All the traces of girlishness had vanished from her, carved away by the demands of adulthood that had been hurried upon her. She was slender and womanly. Her features a little sharper and more elegant than he remembered them being when they'd gone to school together.

Her skin was pale and almost luminous from the healthy sheen that glowed from her. Hidden in the shadows, watching he could see the flutter of her pulse point just below her jaw. The sight of it made the venom pool behind his fangs.

Why was she here?

She had always been clever. She should know better than to come to a place like this. A place for the forsaken. For the creatures of darkness.

As she passed he began to follow her. Flowing from shadow to shadow was easily as water. His footsteps were silent. He emanated a warning to the others in shadows by releasing the sharp magical tang of his venom into the air with a hiss. Although his mere presence should have cowered all but the hungriest and most desperate.

The signature of his magic filled the air, marking it as his territory. His hunting ground. His prey.

He could sense them fade reluctantly away.

He drew closer.

She was carrying a bag of groceries in one hand. The casual, ordinariness of her behavior baffled him.

Drawing his wand he cast a spell that made the bag rip and the contents fall and roll into the street.

"Bollocks," she cursed under her breath, still not drawing her own wand. Instead she knelt down and began gathering the spilled groceries into her arms.

A can of soup had rolled over to his feet. Picking it up he moved toward her. Making his steps audible so she looked up.

She stared at him with astonishment.

"Zabini?"

"Granger?" he replied holding the can out to her.

She tried to reach out and take it, but her arms were already full.

"Do you need a hand?" he offered.

She shot him a grateful smile. His heart stuttered slightly.

She handed him two more cans soup and a loaf of bread and then, gathering everything else into her own arms, gestured with her head for him to follow her.

He watched her carefully as she led the way. She was so naive and vulnerable. He couldn't understand. She'd survived the war, how could she act so trusting? Why wasn't there anyone around to protect her? To keep her safe.

To keep her far away from him.

As they reached her flat he prepared himself. This was the moment that everything rested on. His elongating fangs caught the edge of his tongue, the venom pooling as her blood sang to him.

Turning the key in the lock she started to step across the threshold.

Before he could open his mouth she turned and said,

"Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?"

He almost tripped as he stared at her in astonishment and horror. She had invited him in. Unsolicited, she had given him access to her home. There would be no wards that could keep him out now. No magic that could restrict him. She would have to move if she wanted to escape.

He followed her in. Feeling his magic lay claim to the area.

She dumped the groceries onto a small table and began bustling about in the tiny kitchen. He glanced around the room. It was a sparsely furnished studio.

A bed was pushed to one corner and the sight of it made his whole body thrum as he thought about her sleeping on it. Soft and vulnerable. He could see himself over her, pressed down against her curves as he sank into her inviting heat and her sweet blood flowed down his throat.

He blinked and found her standing in front of him, holding a hideous mug in his direction.

"So. What are you doing here? I haven't heard anything about you since before the war," she inquired, sipping from her own mug, slightly chipped and broken. She settled into a corner of her ratty looking couch and indicated he join her.

"I couldn't stay after the war," he answered. "There was nothing left for me there."

She nodded, her eyes soft and warm with understanding. She probably thought he was referring to all his dead and imprisoned friends.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"I work in a department at the ministry. I got sent here to do some survey work."

"And this is where they stuck you?" he asked incredulously, glancing around the squalid flat in disbelief.

She looked slightly defensive.

"Rebuilding has eaten into a lot of the Ministry's resources. None of the departments are budgeted much for field work."

"Do you do a lot of field work?" he asked, wondering how often she was sent out into desolate pits to fend for herself.

"Not always. I'm mostly in a lab, but not very many people have my speciality. So they didn't really have any choice but to send me."

That was somehow worse. So she didn't even have experience with field work and they'd sent her here.

"Why didn't you fix your bag when it broke?" he asked abruptly.

She hesitated.

"Well, there's muggles nearby. The ministry has had to be a lot stricter about magic use in non-wizarding areas since the war. They had to obviate so many people, they're worried that repeated exposure would risk brain damage. So, we're not supposed to use our wands unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Do you know what kind of area this is?" he said aghast. "The number of dark creatures here? You should always have your wand in your hand. They aren't going to give you the courtesy of a fighting chance. When they strike you'll be lucky to know before they're at your throat."

Hermione stared at him with wide eyes.

"I'm not totally oblivious." she said squaring her shoulders defensively. "I was keeping an eye out. The only person I even saw was you."

He wanted to shake her. He couldn't very well tell her that it was because he had marked the area as his territory. He couldn't understand how she could be so idiotic.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with frustration.

"Ouch!" she suddenly yelped softly.

His eyes shot open and he found her bleeding.

The chip on her mug had caught her lower lip and the scarlet liquid was pooling in her mouth and trickling in a small stream over her chin.

His reaction was involuntary. At the sight of her blood his fangs slid out fully and he darted toward her.

Her large, innocent brown eyes barely had time to widen before his hands were around her throat.

His body was shaking with the desire that coursed through him.

" _Sleep,_ " he rasped, his voice laced with magic.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she dropped into his arms, insensible.

The feeling of her in his embrace.

He tightened his grip around her body. His heart was racing. He could scarcely breath and each time he did the scent of blood clouded his mind in haze of ravenous desire.

He stared down at her face, his eyes following the trickle of blood that was slowly making its way down her throat to pool in the dip of her clavicles. He could see the movement of her pulse under her skin, fluttering like the wings of a small bird.

She was so tiny. So breakable. He could crush her in his hands. Or drain her with a single draught. He could feel her blood flowing through her veins. And hear the steady beating of her heart.

He moaned and pressed her against himself. Relishing the sensation of her soft curves molding against the planes of his body.

With a groan he pulled away from her.

" _Open_ _your_ _eyes,_ " he commanded, his voice thick with magic again.

Her eyes instantly opened, glazed. The intelligence in them masked by the stupor his magic laid over her mind.

 _"Tomorrow morning you will leave this place. You'll just realize it's too dangerous and relocate somewhere else. You will not remember me. You won't remember running into anyone in the street. But if you ever see me again you'll feel scared, you'll be cautious. You'll do everything you need to get away from me quickly. Do you understand?"_

She nodded. Her eyes still glazed.

He should leave. He should stand up and walk away. But,

" _Kiss me,"_ he demanded. His voice thick with all the desire he'd had for her, for years.

She leaned forward obediently and pressed her bleeding mouth against his lips.

Sweet Circe, the taste of her. The taste of her blood.

He couldn't stop himself. He wrapped his arms around her and dragged her onto his lap, kissing her. His hands roamed across her body, relishing every detail of her. Her skin was so soft and smooth under his fingers.

He kissed her, deeply, again and again. The taste her blood in each kiss was like the sweetest drug. He could kiss and taste her forever and it would never be enough.

He gripped her against himself. Trying not to exceeds the bounds of human strength but still, wanting to experience the sensation of himself pressed against every inch of her.

He kept kissing her until she started gasping from the lack of oxygen. Right. He released her mouth and kissed her chin, following the trail of blood that ran down it. Laving his tongue across her skin, removing every trace of it, under her jaw, down her sweet throat, which she arched back for him so obediently.

She was divinity itself. Better than all the countless fantasies he'd had about her. He could barely think of anything but how he wanted her.

He laid her down onto the couch and knelt over her. Licking up the pool of blood in the dip of her throat as her hand rested against his jaw. He could come from tasting her. If he bit her, let his jaws sink into her pale unmarked throat he was sure he would. His fangs brushed across her skin, the venom pooled there, waiting to shoot into her veins and turn her, if he just let himself.

She'd be his then. There'd be no going back. She'd be his, to have, and hold, and bite, and drink, and fuck, forever.

He wanted her.

He ran his hands across her body to her legs and pressed them apart. She spread for him. Her skirt gathering up around her waist. She was wearing thigh high stockings underneath. He never seen anything sexier.

He lightly caresses the pale, sensitive skin of her thighs until she keened. He wanted to bite her there too. To drink it in and then watch the red trickle down, contrasted against the white, in between her legs and to her core. And then taste her there too. The mix of her essence and blood. It would be even more addictive than her blood filled kisses. The thought of it made him groan.

He lowered himself on top of her and kissed her again.

Her blood somehow still tasted better each time than he expected it to. He could get lost kissing her. Groping her. Her hips were cradling him and he ground himself against her. Feeling the spot he wanted so much to enter.

It would be so easy.

She was moaning and gasping against his mouth.

As his made his way down her throat again he nearly reached down and tore her knickers aside.

There was nothing to stop him.

She couldn't stop him.

He froze.

She _couldn't_ stop him.

He tore himself off of her and stumbled back across the room.

She watched him. Her eyes were less glazed, now that they were hungry with arousal.

The temptation to go back over to her nearly brought him to his knees. He would crawl across broken glass to touch her again.

He drew a shuddering breath.

" _If you ever see me again, run. Run and don't ever let me near you._ "

She nodded. Her eyes more glazed looking again.

" _Sleep_."

Her eyes fluttered shut again and she sank into the couch.

He stared at her for a moment, still hesitating. He'd never wanted anything so much.

Then he turned and left her flat.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Disillusioned Hermione Granger watched from the window as Blaise Zabini settled himself in the shadows across from her flat.

Her mobile rang and she lifted it to her ear.

"Harry?" she said. "Yes. I'm settled in and finished my first sweep. The reports were correct, this city is swarming with vampires. I got thirty of them tonight, stunned and tagged. All feral type. They're concealed, but the aurors will be able to find them easily if they use the trace we developed."

There was an inquiry on the other end.

"Yes. I tried a half dose. Tell Luna we'll need to temper it more to lessen the effects. The potency was so high that smell had the streets nearly crawling by the time I was coming back. I was afraid I'd need to release a blast wave there were so many. It would have been a logistical nightmare to handle all the paperwork after the fact, even with the low population for this zone."

Another question.

"No...I didn't need to," she answered cagily.

"Something made them all back off," she admitted. "The rumors are true. There is something else here. I think it might be some sort of hybrid from during the war. I think someone with old magic got turned. It's created a new type of vampire."

She huffed slightly.

"No. I'm not going to cancel the sweep. The potential of this discovery is too important."

"No! I knew the likelihood of there being a hybrid going in and I took all the necessary precautions. I'm not going to change my mind just because it makes you worry. You've seen with your own eyes how quickly I can put down a vampire wandlessly."

Her brown eyes flashed with irritation by whatever was said on the other end.

"You're perfectly welcome to go speak to Kingsley. But as an Unspeakable this is my mission and my prerogative. The only reason I'm communicating with you and the auror Department at all is to coordinate pickup of the feral vampires. If you're going to make my work more difficult I'll send a request to have you transferred off."

Her face softened.

"I know. But I need you to trust me that I know what I'm doing. This is my expertise. And— I'm pretty sure I'm not in any danger from the hybrid."

Her cheeks flushed faintly.

"Oh..." she said vaguely. "It's just a feeling I have."

"Goodnight, Harry."

She hung up her phone and continued to stare into the shadows. Her bright, intelligent eyes darkened slightly as her fingers came up and brushed lightly over her lips. She smirked faintly.

"I'll still be here tomorrow, Blaise. What will you do then?"


End file.
